How Not to Save a Life
by Julian Steerpike
Summary: 'I have nothing to return to, at Hogwarts.' In her seventh year in Hogwarts, Ginny finds that there is yet more to fight for. Compliant with all but DH epilogue, D/G/H.


Anything recognizable belongs to the Potterverse and therefore JK Rowling.

Chapter 1: Return to Hogwarts

'I have nothing to return to, at Hogwarts.'

'Draco, dear – you have to,' says Mother.

Father's back is to them, and he is looking out of the window. He wonders what Father is looking out into – there are no extensive grounds to be distracted by, not for this mews house tucked into an expensively muted and otherwise Muggle street in London. Even in London's poor morning light, he can see that Father's hair is shot through with grey and white, and every line is etched deeply and painfully into his face.

'You still have a future to build, Draco,' coaxes Mother. 'And the letter from McGonagall – it says that she still wants you to be a Slytherin Prefect, and in any case you can still play Quidditch – you always did love playing for the House team…'

'We still have our holdings – our money and our assets, even if we no longer have Malfoy Manor – I don't have to have any qualifications. And what of being a Prefect and playing for Slytherin – I have no interest in those things,' he replies. To be precise, his interest in those things had dimmed greatly a lifetime ago – in their place had been an all-consuming fear, for himself and for his parents, and in the days since the Dark Lord has died this fear has not yet known to give up its hold on his heart.

'Complete your last year, Draco,' Father finally says. His voice is dry and papery, almost weak, but there still rings a singular note of command in it. Father has not spoken for days – it has been Mother holding their household together, protecting them since the Battle of Hogwarts, acting as if she were running their household as it had been, bowing her head in remorse and regret and gratefulness at the appropriate junctures to the appropriate people, having the courage to be firm when she can. Draco has been unable to look directly at Father for some time, but Father hardly looks directly at anyone, not these days.

There are many things that Draco can say to his words – Father has not been as Mother has, and Father has been the cause of this, the cause of _all _of this – but he feels his fingers, terribly cold despite the summer, dig into the palms of his hands as he knows that he will still listen to him. In spite of all that he has been made to see, and do, and how many times his heart has turned to water because of Father, he still has to listen to him.

So instead he trusts himself only to nod, and turn his head into Mother's neck as she embraces him in the first sign of happiness she has shown in the past weeks.

XXX

'I still can't believe that McGonagall didn't make you Head Girl instead,' says Ginny, as she and Hermione make their way down to the Prefects' carriage at the head of the Hogwarts Express.

'You almost sound offended for my sake that _you _were made Head Girl, Gin,' laughs Hermione in reply. 'Anyway, McGonagall could hardly make me Head Girl – technically, I'm a student who's been made to stay back a year…'

'But, 'Mione, first, you're only here because you were out saving the Wizarding world last year – and most of your year are coming back to repeat their Seventh Year, or at least will come back to take their N.E.W.T.s when the time comes around for those, and second, you were a Prefect for two years…'

'And _you, _Gin, were a hero in the past year. You and Neville led the D.A., and the students – the younger ones especially – had probably come to trust you as one of the senior students who would look out for them, even if it meant incurring the wrath of literally the cruelest professors who have walked the halls of Hogwarts. And you were a hero in the Battle of Hogwarts, as much as Ron or me or Harry. _And _you would probably work better with Brone Vaisey than I would,' counters Hermione.

'Vaisey can't be too bad – he was the Slytherin Prefect who helped evacuate the younger students who had nowhere else to go to his family estate, and kept the Slytherins who were intent on going to fight for Voldemort from managing to do so….' Ginny's voice trails off as they near the Prefects' carriage.

As they enter the carriage, Ginny is happy to see familiar faces among the Prefects – many are D.A. members, or had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts nevertheless. From Gryffindor there is Dean Thomas, whom Ginny supposes must be replacing Ron as the fourth Seventh Year Prefect, Alex Leigh, her Seventh Year counterpart, Julia and Julian, the Thorne twins and the Sixth Year Prefects, and Dennis Creevey and Sadie McAllister, the Fifth Year Prefects. Ginny's smile falters a bit when her eyes meet Dennis' – but Dennis greets her as enthusiastically as he always has, as if Colin had not died those months ago.

From Hufflepuff, Ginny knows Justin Finch-Fletchley – he must have been made a Prefect with his return to Hogwarts, Susan Bones, who must be replacing Hannah Abbott, and Alice Tolipan.

From Ravenclaw – Michael Corner, who must also have been made a Prefect with his return to Hogwarts, Anthony Goldstein, Luca Caruso and Padma Patil.

And finally, from Slytherin – Brone Vaisey, star Slytherin Chaser and the new Head Boy, Tracey Davis, Nicholas Harper and Astoria Greengrass.

There are others, too, in the carriage – _too many others_, Ginny thinks, and she feels briefly and acutely ill. Most of them had been Prefects for the past years – why had McGonagall thought that she is qualified for this?

'Weasley, a word,' says Vaisey curtly, as soon as he sees her taking a breath in between greeting her various friends. Before she can answer, he has pulled her out of the carriage by the elbow.

'I thought we should discuss some things before we speak to the others,' says Vaisey as soon as the door to the carriage has shut behind them. 'Especially since you have never been a Prefect…'

Ginny flushes at this, although she also realizes that Vaisey has made his statement with a surprising lack of condescension or spite.

'Well – yes,' concedes Ginny. 'You've done this before – how do you suggest we go about this?'

Vaisey does not answer her immediately, however – Ginny realizes, the heat about her neck growing, that he is instead studying her.

'I wrote to McGonagall about my appointment – and yours,' Vaisey finally says.

'You questioned my appointment?' Despite her own misgivings on the matter, Ginny cannot help but feel somewhat put out by this.

'I questioned _our _appointments,' replies Vaisey steadily. 'I may not have joined the side of the Dark Lord and I may have been a Prefect since our fifth year, but I _am_ a Slytherin, and Slytherins are even less well liked by everyone else these days. And you – well, as we've established, you've not been a Prefect before. So I asked McGonagall why she had chosen _us_, particularly, to be Head Boy and Head Girl.'

'Perhaps she admires the symmetry we'll make when we walk down the halls together,' says Ginny drily. It is a ludicrous comment – Ginny is small-boned, her rich red hair pouring around her in long waves, and Vaisey, while leanly-muscled, is almost two heads taller than her, with a tousled, very boyish mop of ash-blond hair.

'She wants our working together to be a statement,' continues Vaisey, ignoring her remark. 'She didn't quite say so in so many words, of course – I'm paraphrasing – but she did say that she considered what it would mean to the student population if a Slytherin and a Gryffindor who had been a member of the D.A. in the past year worked together. So – I have given it some thought, and I think as far as things go, we should do our best to present a united front, even in front of the other Prefects.'

Ginny takes a while to digest what he has said – she still cannot decide if she likes what he has suggested of McGonagall's reasons for throwing them together, but has the sense to know that she can only hold that up for closer examination in private, so she focuses instead on his proposal on their working together. Finally, she asks, 'What is that supposed to mean?'

'I mean, Weasley, that we should cooperate with each other, and be amenable with one of us taking the lead on matters if needs be. I mean that we should work on decisions and Prefect schedules together, and I mean that when we are to discipline some other Prefect, it should be the both of us who do so.'

'You want me to be amenable to your taking the lead on matters?' repeats Ginny. 'I'm not sure if I can…'

'I understand that the Head Boy and Head Girl are supposed to work as equal partners. What I mean is that sometimes, when one party is clearly not prepared to deal with a particular situation, that party should – how should I put this in simple terms – that party should just shut up and let the other deal with the matter,' says Vaisey, his words coming out in a deceptively calm manner. 'Like now, for instance,' he continues, jerking his head towards the Prefects' carriage. 'I don't suppose you have prepared an agenda for the meeting.'

'I – ' begins Ginny, but she closes her mouth again. Hermione had reminded her last night that she would need one – but she had clean forgotten.

'Quite,' remarks Vaisey. He thrusts a piece of parchment at her that he has been holding in his hand. 'Read this, and try not to look too surprised when I address the rest later.'

Ginny sighs inwardly as she does as she is told – Vaisey has surprisingly neat and precise handwriting for a boy, and he is a methodical planner, but Ginny has a sense that their first exchange could be a sign of things to come.

XXX

For all of Vaisey's planning, however, Ginny is surprised to find that he has only considered an odd number of Slytherin Prefects for their first round of patrolling on the Hogwarts Express – he has left, as a result, Hermione to do patrolling by herself, with the rest of the Prefects in pairs. Ginny herself is to patrol with Vaisey – she supposes that it is the first step of Vaisey's presenting them as a united front. Absently, it occurs to her that Vaisey had not explained why he is agreeable to acting in accordance with what he believes McGonagall is trying to achieve with their pairing.

But why had Vaisey left out one Slytherin Prefect – specifically, the last Seventh Year Slytherin Prefect? Briefly, Ginny wonders if it is because there have not been enough Slytherins who are returning to repeat their Seventh Year.

As she has agreed, however – or rather, as Vaisey had told her to – Ginny does not bring up this irregularity during his briefing of the other Prefects, and even gives Hermione a brief, discreet shake of the head when it looks like Hermione is about to question her being made to patrol by herself.

By the time Vaisey has finished conducting the meeting however – Ginny grudgingly has to admit that he has a certain ability to command a room, and is measured and dispassionate when dealing with questions from the others – Ginny can hardly contain her curiosity. As soon as she and Vaisey are out of earshot, she asks, 'Vaisey, is there a fourth Slytherin Prefect?'

Vaisey does not answer for a moment, and instead continues his long strides down the corridor, letting Ginny almost run after him in an effort to keep up. Finally though, he says, shortly, 'There is. I didn't expect him to turn up, though.'

'Why wouldn't he turn up?' asks Ginny. Stubbornly, she refuses to ask him to slow down – she has conceded enough to Vaisey for a day. 'And who's he?'

'He might not even want to be a Prefect, let's just leave it as that,' answers Vaisey.

'It wouldn't make much of a difference if we have one less Slytherin Prefect, anyway.'

XXX

'Thank you, Miss Weasley, Mr. Vaisey, for agreeing to meet me tonight,' begins McGonagall.

Ginny is briefly distracted as Albus Dumbledore winks at her from his portrait behind McGonagall. Ginny flashes him a quick smile, before returning her gaze to the Headmistress.

'You might have some questions as to your appointment, Miss Weasley, and your appointment alongside Mr. Vaisey,' continues McGonagall. 'Mr Vaisey had written to me on the matter over the holidays…'

'Let me assure you, Miss Weasley, that I have great faith that you will avail yourself as Head Girl – your leading the D.A. with Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood last year was most commendable and courageous, if somewhat foolhardy in the circumstances, and you – your family – have a certain symbolic appeal given your efforts in the War…as for Mr. Vaisey, I myself saw how he tried to keep younger students safe during the Battle of Hogwarts, and stopped some of the students from involving themselves – unnecessarily – in the fray. I'm afraid I have to be frank in saying that his being from Slytherin factored into my decision to appoint him Head Boy – I rather thought that having a suitable Slytherin in a position of leadership, this year, would discourage some animosity among the students towards returning Slytherins…'

Ginny sneaks a glance at Vaisey, seated next to her – his surmises are correct, but it does not seem that it affects him that McGonagall has essentially admitted that it is not only because of his merits that he has been appointed Head Boy.

'But – now that that is out of the way – I asked the two of you to meet me tonight because I have something rather important to discuss with you. As you can imagine, the Second Wizarding War affected many of us – many of our Hogwarts students and their families – terribly. The British wizarding community is still picking up the pieces, and I expect that there are many students who may not be able to pull themselves together quite so readily. I have discussed the matter with Madam Pomfrey, the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Miriam Strout, the healer-in-charge of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital – Ms. Strout is sending one of her Healers who specializes in young patients to set up office in Hogwarts, effective tomorrow.'

McGonagall pauses, and at this Ginny says softly, 'That's a good idea – it'll help, especially with the younger students, and those who lost loved ones in the War…'

She tries to ignore the small voice in her head, and the slight tear in her heart, that remind her that she is one of those who have lost loved ones.

'There's more, Miss Weasley. Unfortunately given the increase in the number of patients St. Mungo's has been receiving, in the aftermath of the War, Ms. Strout can hardly spare us more Healers – and I expect there are many students who will require some attention here. As such, Madam Pomfrey, Ms. Strout, Mr. Shacklebolt and I have agreed that it might be advisable to have our senior Prefects help with counseling their fellow students. It will also help the incoming Healer if the Prefects were made to be more aware of how to spot students with issues who are unwilling to come forward. It's one of the reasons why I've allowed four instead of two Seventh Year Prefects from each of the Houses, this year – the other being, of course, that with the returning Seventh Years there will be more students in Hogwarts this year. Well – what do you think?'

'We – is it already settled, that we should help with counseling?' Ginny asks uncertainly.

'Well – yes,' says McGonagall, nodding slowly. 'You and Mr. Vaisey's contribution, of course, will be in the implementation of what I expect should be a weekly counseling clinic, of sorts – you can have one of the classrooms on a night, and students can approach you to talk…'

'Traumatized students counseling traumatized students,' remarks Vaisey. 'That'll be a good idea.'

His tone is not impolite, but Ginny wonders at the audacity of his words.

'Yes, Mr. Vaisey, we recognize that it is not the best solution,' says McGonagall steadily, but Ginny realizes, suddenly, that she looks very tired, and older than Ginny has ever remembered her.

'But it could go some way in bolstering morale, for the students – it might help them to think that there is someone who they can look to, regularly, to talk to, about difficult – painful – things.'

XXX

As they step out of the Headmistress' Office, Ginny's head swimming with the new responsibility that has been thrust upon them, Vaisey seemingly unperturbed, they almost walk into Draco Malfoy.

'Malfoy,' greets Vaisey, and Ginny is somewhat surprised that his tone is cold – although he has not been particularly friendly to her throughout the day, even Ginny can tell that his voice now has a thread of hostility in it.

What shocks Ginny, however, is Malfoy's response to Vaisey's greeting – he had already lost a lot of weight in the past two years, and his pallor is more apparent than ever, but he seems to shrink back into himself, and for a brief moment there is a look almost of abject fear on his face. Then his features quickly transfigure into an expression of neutrality – which, to Ginny, is as foreign to her on Malfoy as that look of fear had been.

'Vaisey,' he answers, but not quite meeting Vaisey's eyes. Then, turning to Ginny, he gives her a curt nod, greeting, 'Weasley.'

'Are you quite all right, Malfoy?' she blurts out.

Malfoy gives her a long look, but when he finally speaks he says, 'Can I see the Headmistress?'

'Why?' Ginny asks.

'You want to return your badge,' says Vaisey, and he nods at Malfoy's closed left hand.

'_You'_re the last Slytherin Prefect?' Ginny exclaims. 'Why didn't you show up at the Prefects' carriage just now – and why do you now want to…'

'I don't have to explain myself to you, Weasley,' says Malfoy, and there is, finally, a faint sliver of the old Malfoy sneer in his voice. 'Now can I see the Headmistress, or not?'

'I'm afraid I can't accept your return of your Prefect's badge, Mr. Malfoy.' McGonagall has appeared behind Ginny and Vaisey, but when Ginny turns around she is looking directly at Malfoy. 'We've only ever lost Prefects to death or our revocation of their positions due to a serious abdication of their responsibilities as Prefect – as Headmistress, I do not accept your resignation.'

'You can't make me perform duties as a Prefect if I don't want to – I've refused before, in my sixth year!' answers Malfoy, hotly. Then, as if realizing what he has said, he stops, and his cheeks are quickly coloured an unbecoming and deep red.

'But Professor Dumbledore always considered you a Prefect, nevertheless,' returns McGonagall, with what Ginny believes must be an exceeding amount of calm and control. 'We _want_ you to be a Prefect, Mr. Malfoy.' There is a softness to her voice at these words.

'I – ' Malfoy does not complete his sentence, however, and in a frustrated action, throws the badge in his hand at their feet, before storming off without another word.

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence.

'Mr. Vaisey, I trust you will keep Mr. Malfoy's badge for him until he is ready to resume his duties,' says McGonagall, finally. Not seeing – or perhaps ignoring – Ginny's expression, she returns into the Headmistress' Office without further ado.

Slowly, Vaisey bends down, and picks up the badge. Ginny watches as he looks at it, briefly, and is surprised when he pushes it into her hands.

'You keep it,' says Vaisey, his expression inscrutable.

'But Malfoy and I – we're not friends,' protests Ginny. 'At least the two of you were on the Slytherin Quidditch team together…'

'Malfoy and I aren't friends either,' interrupts Vaisey. He is already turning to make his way down the corridor as he says his parting words.

'Anyway, Malfoy'll prefer to take it back from you rather than from me.'

XXX

'And this is Mr. Cillian Black, the Healer from St. Mungo's who will be setting up an office here in Hogwarts,' states McGonagall.

Ginny tries to hide the amusement from her face; it is clear that the tall, slender young man next to McGonagall has barely had the time to put his bags down that they have come into his private rooms – Ginny recognizes the note of anxiety from recent travel in his countenance that she has often seen in Bill and Charlie when their mother pounces on them when they reach home. And with his delicate features and careless black hair, Ginny cannot imagine that he will be wanting of patients.

But when her eyes meet his as she extends her hand, Ginny is surprised to see that there is steel to his light blue eyes.

'Miss Ginevra Weasley, our Head Girl, and Mr. Brone Vaisey, our Head Boy,' continues McGonagall. 'They will be aiding you, as part of the counseling programme – '

'I'll talk to them, then, after – after I've changed – if that's quite all right…' interrupts Black. His tone is almost absent, in a complete contrast to the look in his eyes that Ginny had seen. Abruptly, he squints at something behind them – Ginny turns around just as a tall, thin dog with short, dark red fur lopes into the room, crossing the floor swiftly, past herself and Vaisey and stopping at Black's feet.

'I was wondering when you were going to come in,' Black murmurs, as he drops down, petting the dog affectionately. It is almost as if Vaisey, Ginny and McGonagall are not in the room, for a brief moment, as Black's entire concentration is on the dog before him.

A low bark, however, comes from the door, and all in the room turn to see a large white dog standing at the threshold of the room. There is something undeniably stately and yet ferocious in its posture; then it unbends, and slowly ambles into the room towards Black.

'Mr. Black?' McGonagall finally says. 'These are?'

'I was told that I could bring my pets; Ms. Strout said I could, and I've written to your gamekeeper about them,' replies Black, his blue eyes wide as he gets back on his feet.

Ginny has to stifle a laugh – he sounds almost like one of her brothers from when they were children, bringing back yet some kind of poor undernourished fox or badger into the Burrow, telling their mother that their father had said, at some point, that they could have pets if they saw something that needed saving.

'Oh, and these are Bendemeer and Benedictine; Benedictine's an Azawakh – that's a breed of sighthound dog from Africa – and Bendemeer's a Tibetan Mastiff – he's…'

'I see, Mr. Black,' nods McGonagall curtly; the look on her face plainly suggests otherwise. 'As I was saying, Miss Weasley and Mr. Vaisey will be assisting you with the counseling programme. As you seem to want to settle in at the moment, and Miss Weasley and Mr. Vaisey's first class of the morning will be starting soon, I suppose you can make an appointment with them to see you at some later time.' Then, back stiff and with an aura of disapproval about her, McGonagall steps around the dogs and sweeps out of the room.

'Well, she always was good at entrances and exits,' remarks Black, and he shoots a playful smile at Ginny and Vaisey. 'It really is nice to be back; the grounds are as large as ever for my dogs to run in,' he continues, his smile widening – it is boyish and brilliant smile.

Ginny does quite know what to say, and Vaisey seems to be in the same position.

Black continues, 'So – what say we meet…at lunch today, how does that sound?' He has already dropped down again and has an affectionate arm around Bendemeer the white Tibetan Mastiff, which has settled itself beside him, while he scratches Benedictine's head with his other hand.

'Er, good, fine,' Ginny finds herself saying. The man is clearly distracted by his dogs – Ginny wonders, briefly, if he even realizes what he is here for.

'We will be seeing you at lunch then, Mr. Black,' Vaisey says shortly. He turns to leave, and Ginny quickly follows.

She turns back, however, just before the door closes behind them – Black has not moved from where he was, but he is staring straight at them.

XXX

The more she thinks about it, the more she cannot help but feel that there is something oddly familiar about Black.

Hermione is sitting next to her, already readying her side of the long desk for class. Ginny wonders why they still have Potions in the dratted dungeons, particularly since Snape is no longer here to teach them (although she immediately feels bad at this thought – Snape had been a hero, to the end, and she wonders how much of himself he had had to sacrifice for the cause, and how many unkind, unworthy thoughts she had had of him before she had found out about him). Nevertheless, Ginny has always disliked the dungeons – she dislikes its cold and its damp and its peculiar _smell_.

'I wonder who the new Potions master will be,' says Hermione. 'I mean, McGonagall hadn't mentioned him yesterday, at the Feast, and there hadn't been anyone new at the table. I s'pose he'll be the new Slytherin Head of House as well…I do hope that he's as skilled as Snape or Slughorn was. If only Slughorn hadn't decided that he should go back into retirement…'

Ginny bites her tongue which would have replied, just a year ago, that she could not understand how anyone would appreciate Snape, who, for all of his skill, had never been particularly patient with non-Slytherin students. Neither had she been particularly fond of Slughorn, because he was always so eager about his Slug Club – but he had availed himself during the Battle of Hogwarts, for which she has to be appreciative. Instead she says, 'I'm not sure if they could do that, 'Mione – it's pretty short notice, and well, good Potions Masters aren't very common…'

At this, a slight figure slips into the room – Ginny almost thinks that he is another seventh year student. But the figure goes to the front of the class, and puts a number of books on the front desk – presumably, this is their new Potions Master.

'Good morning,' says the new Potions Master, addressing the class in a quiet, somewhat disinterested voice. He is clearly and surprisingly young, perhaps even younger than Cillian Black is, with light, rather colourless hair and incongruous violet eyes. 'My name is Vivien Wyck-Devereux, and I will be your new tutor for Potions. I was myself from Hogwarts for a few years, from the Slytherin House; I studied here from 1983 to 1986. I was later in Beauxbatons and was an apprentice under the Potions Master there for some years. It pleases me greatly to return to Hogwarts and I hope you all will be equally pleased to have me as your Potions Master.'

He has said all of this in the same mildly disinterested tone, his accent clipped and with a slight foreign cadence, and his eyes do not quite settle on any one of his students. Ginny has a vague sense that she will dislike him already, but Hermione leans in from next to her and whispers excitedly, 'Merlin, Gin – McGonagall's gotten us Wyck-Devereux! He's very well-published for his age…'

'I understand from Professor McGonagall that she wants the class to be – how shall we say – as _mixed up_ as possible? I understand that that is her new policy, to have students not sit with their Housemates during classes,' Wyck-Devereux has already continued, and Ginny unconsciously tenses at the sly note of amusement that has entered his voice. 'So – I propose – you – and you – together, at the front…'

Hermione and Ginny exchange rueful looks as Hermione is eventually directed to sit near the front of the class, next to Terry Boot.

A ruder shock awaits Ginny, however – when she looks up to greet the student Wyck-Devereux has lazily directed over to her table, she realizes that it is Draco Malfoy.

'Weasley,' greets Malfoy, and there is not even a ghost of a smirk on his pale lips. Ginny stares at him – his eyes look large in his pointed face, and he is decidedly paler than usual.

'Er, morning, Malfoy,' Ginny says, uncertainly. Her hand reaches into her pocket – she had decided to keep his Prefect's badge with her, so that she can return it to him as soon as practicable, but she somehow knows that it is not quite the time to do so. Instead, feeling very uncomfortable, she takes out her wand from the same pocket, and puts it within easy reach, on the desk.

Malfoy shoots her a look, but does not say anything. Ginny flushes, feeling foolish.

'And for our first class, I thought it would be a good idea if we could start out with something that would provide us with a bit of a challenge,' says Wyck-Devereux from the front of the class. When Ginny looks up, she realizes that he is smiling, and that it is not a pleasant smile.

It is a smile of inordinate self-satisfaction, the kind of expression Ginny imagines a cat would have on its face if it could smile, watching a trapped mouse before it.

Already it feels as if it will be a long year of Potions indeed.

XXX

'Malfoy!' Ginny calls – the older boy had left the classroom almost as soon as Wyck-Devereux had dismissed them, and she has had to stuff her things into her bag haphazardly before sprinting out after him. 'Malfoy – wait!'

Malfoy stops and turns. 'What is it, Weasley?' Even after a whole session of their very civilly preparing Wyck-Devereux's assigned potion together – and Ginny has to admit that Malfoy had proved to be a meticulous potioneer – Ginny cannot help but be surprised by the lack of spite in his voice. It is _Malfoy_. Ginny is used to him saying her name with a particular blend of viciousness and dislike that is uniquely and infuriatingly his.

'I – well,' Ginny starts, and realizes that she does not quite know how to go about this. 'Well – Vaisey – McGonagall…'

'Are you about to string together a coherent sentence any time soon, Weasley?' cuts in Malfoy, but even then his tone can only be described as neutral.

'Vaisey wanted me to give this to you,' Ginny finally manages, and quickly she thrusts his Prefect's badge towards him.

'I'm not about to take on duties,' says Malfoy levelly, and he steps back to be just out of the reach of her hands.

'Well – I can't very well keep holding on to this, Malfoy, so you'll have to be ready soon,' replies Ginny, studying him closely. She almost wants to ask him if he is ill – on anyone else his behaviour would seem perfectly normal, the expected conduct of an acquaintance, albeit one who inconveniently wants to avoid being Prefect. But with Malfoy, it is –

Malfoy shrugs. 'I'm afraid you'll just have to, Weasley. In any case it's not particularly heavy, or anything.' With that parting shot, he turns around, and before long reaches the end of the corridor, turning into the next.

Ginny completes the thought, staring after him. With Malfoy – and she would never have dreamed she would ever think this – it is almost as if the fire has completely gone out of him.

It is enough to plant the first seed of worry for him in her heart, although she does not yet realize this, herself.

XXX

A/N:

It's been a long time since I've written, and I hope that this was interesting! Please do review; I dearly need the feedback to know if I'm on the right track.

Vaisey is a canon character, but his first name and characterization are my own invention. Vivien Wyck-Devereux and Cillian Black are also my own invention. Cillian Black's dogs' respective breeds are real, but obviously the dogs themselves are fictional.


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